I'm posting an
old artwork of mine, and I can't believe that it's already been a year since Mr. Sendak's passing.
Where The Wild Things Are was one of my favorite books as a child, and I remember reading it every time I was sent into exile (aka grounded in my room). Sendak understood me, comforted me, and made me laugh within the confines of my "unfair sentencing". I'm so thankful for my childhood authors for turning me into a reader with fond memories! (even when sent to my room).
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